Please, Don't Do This
by Harta
Summary: Awaiting the dawn that would bring the Lake-men and Wood-elves to approach for their compensation of gold, Bilbo confronts Thorin. [Includes Thorin/Bilbo romance (Thilbo, Bagginshield), father-son relationship of Balin/Thorin and Balin/Bilbo, and Bilbo/Company friendship. CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE BOOK, INCLUDING MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.]


**[WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FROM THE BOOK, INCLUDING MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. And slash (boy/boy pairing) if you do not like slash.]**

**Author's Note (not all that is said is important, feel free to skip): **

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_How I came to like the pairing_

When I first read the Hobbit book (a long long time before the movie came out), I never thought of Thorin and Bilbo as a romantic pairing. And then I watched the movie, and a couple seconds before Thorin hugged Bilbo I just _knew_ that there was gonna be a big emotional hug just like Frodo and Sam at the end of FotR. And I was right. But I looked at them like father/son, or big brother/little brother.

But then I saw some fanart and read some Thorin/Bilbo fanfictions, and my friend urged me on.

So now I ship this pairing so badly (*screams incoherently*)

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_About the story_

Anyways, in this story, it includes events from the book and the movie (since Thorin and Bilbo didn't hug in the book.)

I'm sorry if I get some facts messed up, I don't have my copy of the Hobbit book with me right now :') I also apologize if I get any of the characterization wrong.

I...I think of Balin as a father figure to all the dwarves and Bilbo.

Comments (and critics) would totally make my day! :)

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own The Hobbit.

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**Please, Don't Do This**

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The stars were sprinkled over a sea of darkness that was the night sky. The wind howled, traveling from the highest peak of mountains to the lowest reaches of the grass. It was dark yet the moon, milky and bright in the air, spread a soft white light throughout the land. Alas, all was quiet, save for the singing of the traveling wind.

The Lonely Mountain indeed felt lonely that night.

Only a distant's walk away, far—yet not far enough—was a camp of Men and Elves.

On the mountain was a single figure, sitting on a dull rock overlooking the camp, his chin cupped in his small hands. The figure sighed, curly brown hair waving in the wind.

Bilbo Baggins sighed once more before clenching his tiny, hobbit fists.

As he and the dwarves took refuge on the Lonely Mountain, watching the Men and Elves at work, Bilbo's mind and heart was a mess.

"I cannot let him do this," he muttered to himself. "I cannot. This is madness. Madness, I daresay!" Bilbo stood up. "I shall not let him. I _will not_ let him."

And then he started walking back to his camp, at a slow pace, then the pace grew faster and faster, and Bilbo Baggins found himself running back to the rocky corner in which his dwarf comrades were spending the night. His heart beat hard against his chest.

Finally he made it back to the dwarves, and his eyes flickered from one person to the other. Some were sitting on the floor. Some were standing up, leaning against walls and sharpening their weapons. Some were asleep. One was missing.

Bilbo drew a breath before asking, "Where is Thorin?"

"Thorin..." muttered Bombur, his face etched with sadness. The fat dwarf bowed his head, fiddling with the uneaten bread in his hands. As impossible as it sounded, his appetite was long gone.

A voice to Bilbo's left said, "He refuses to sleep."

Bilbo turned his head to find Balin sitting on the rocky floor, his back against the wall. His beard shone white in the moonlight.

The other dwarves listened in, even those that were asleep, for they were never asleep in the first place. A darkness was in their hearts and sleep seemed impossible.

"Thorin refuses to sleep, not even a wink," continued Balin, his expression showing just as much sadness as Bombur, if not more. Balin was fond of the leader of their company, treating Thorin not unlike how a father would treat a son (although Thorin was indeed the oldest of them all). "He declared that he would be the one to keep watch for the night, although we have told him that we would so gladly do it for him. Yet he refuses to let any of us take the shift, if there ever was a shift in the first place."

"Balin..." said Bilbo, knowing how the dwarf must be feeling. "Where can I find Thorin?"

"He's on the tall cliff overlooking the lands below," answered Balin, slowly standing up and taking careful steps towards the hobbit. "He must have been able to see you too, wherever you were before you sought us here. For where he is, he can see many places." He paused. "Bilbo..." His voice grew soft, yet wretched with pain and emotion. A shadow was over his face.

Kili and Fili, who were attempting to rest with no avail on the mountain floor, opened their eyes and sat up. Oin and Gloin stopped sharpening their weapons. Dori, Ori, and Nori did the same. Bifur and Bofur, leaning against the wall, turned their heads to look at Bilbo and Balin while Bombur set down the bread. Dwalin too roused from a fruitless sleep, watching his brother intently, worrying for him. Worrying for all of them.

"Bilbo..." said Balin again, and his voice was filled with grief. Slowly he raised his hands and placed them on the hobbit's shoulders. "Please." Balin looked Bilbo in the eye. "Help Thorin dig deeper into his heart. Because I am not sure if what he is doing is right, and I worry if he is making the wrong choice of possibly raging a war against the Wood-elves and the Lake-men who seek our gold. I am worried. I... I— "

Balin stopped. Bilbo had wrapped his arms around the dwarf's shoulders, pulling him into a warm embrace.

Thorin was not the only one who was like a son to Balin.

"I understand," said Bilbo, his eyes closed. "Do not fall into despair just yet. I will talk to Thorin. For we all worry for him. He is very dear to us, and all of you are very dear to me."

He broke the hug and stepped back. He looked at each dwarf, whose eyes were now fixed on him.

Bilbo patted his hands on his thighs. He nodded his head in a short farewell and walked away.

Bilbo found his king of the mountain sitting on the edge a cliff. It was a terrifying thing to behold, and Bilbo was afraid if the wind were to push him off. The hobbit ran up to him, waving his hand. "Thorin!" he called. "Thorin!"

The dwarf slowly looked over his shoulder. "Bilbo."

"Not— " squeaked Bilbo, disappointed at himself for failing to find his voice at such a crucial time. "Not a very warm welcome, is that?"

"I have no time for conversation," answered Thorin, his voice rather cold. "Tomorrow the Elf and the Man with the bow with make their way to us again. They will demand for our gold."

"_Thorin, stop this!"_

The dwarf nearly jumped. Bilbo rarely raised his voice at him, unless it was in a scream of terror (such as almost falling off a cliff or being chased by Orcs). There was a silence that even the wind could not break.

Finally Thorin spoke.

"What is troubling your mind?" he said, his voice now soft and his fair face more kind. Ever since he and the hobbit shared an embrace after clashing with the Pale Orc, Thorin had more respect for Bilbo. More respect. More admiration. More affection.

"What is troubling me?" spluttered Bilbo. "What is troubling _me?"_ His voice was high and loud now, his emotions spilling out with every word that exited his mouth. "This...This _madness_ is what's troubling me!" He pointed his finger at the direction of the Men and Elves camp, his hand trembling. "Thorin, please..."

The dwarf swung his legs away from the cliff and stood up, walking slowly towards the little hafling.

Thorin closed the distance between them until they were face to face.

"Don't do this."

Bilbo felt desperate as he said those three words. He did not say them only once. "Don't do this, Thorin! It is madness! It is dangerous! It is what will get you and possibly everyone else killed!"

"My heart and mind has made their choice," muttered Thorin, his eyes locked on Bilbo's. "Such choice I shall follow, no matter how many times you name it madness. It is wisdom for me."

Bilbo could hardly believe his ears. "Wisdom! _Ha! _If this is wisdom, then this mountain is a lake! Which it is not! Oh, Thorin!" Bilbo grasped the dwarf's arms, which were limp at his side, and shook them. "Don't do this! What has clouded your mind so badly that you think you make the right choice? Do tell me!"

"Nothing a hobbit would understand."

That surprised Bilbo. Thorin had been kinder to him ever since the incident with the Pale Orc, and yet—The Thorin that was with him now seemed to have been replaced with the Thorin from when they first met, who distrusted and looked down on the hobbit. It hurt him.

"Your mind is indeed clouded! After all we've been through!" Bilbo's voice was now quavering like an isolated leaf in the middle of a ferocious earthquake. "Is it so bad to give a small portion of the gold to the Men at least, to follow what they asked?"

"A small portion?" exclaimed Thorin.

"The Man was the one who slaughtered Smaug!" said Bilbo. "It was not us! They ask but a portion of the gold for compensation. Can you not see that without him, this mountain and your gold would still be conquered by that foul dragon?"

"You say as if we would have no chance against Smaug."

Bilbo halted. He had poorly chosen his words. Finally he spoke again, feeling as if he was treading on a frozen lake with the ice only a couple centimeters thin. "What I am trying to say is that the Men at least deserve the gold too. They are not asking for the whole hoard, just a portion of it. They slaughtered Smaug, we give them a bit of gold. Is it not a fair trade?"

"It has been the dwarve's gold from the very beginning."

"The Men deserve to have it!"

"Bilbo, listen to me. Let us say this. How about an example to lighten our minds, eh? Bag End is undoubtedly yours, is it not?"

Bilbo blinked in surprise, wondering where this conversation would lead to. "Yes..." he answered slowly.

"Then if there was an enemy, yearning to burn down your dear Bag End and stomp on its ashes, yet there is another person who stopped the enemy's plans. You would undoubtedly be grateful to this man, would you not?"

"Of course I would, he saved my house!" said Bilbo.

"And if this savior ends up wanting to claim Bag End for his own. Would you let him have it? Even if this savior asks for a portion of Bag End, to do whatever he pleases with it?"

There was a deadly pause.

And worse was the hesitation of Bilbo.

"That isn't a fair example," he finally said, looking down at his feet. He couldn't meet the dwarf's eyes.

Thorin smiled grimly. "Fair or not, it is how you shall feel if you were in my shoes, young hafling." Bilbo's grip on his biceps were now weak and slackened, and all Thorin needed was to lightly shrug his shoulders for the hobbit to release him.

"Will you not trust me?"

Bilbo did not answer. He tried not to heed Thorin. He thought he was doing a rather good until he felt a hand under his chin, gently lifting it up and tilting his head upwards. The dwarf's eyes were kind as he finally met them, and so was Thorin's face. There was the smile there that always managed to comfort Bilbo, no matter what the circumstances.

"Will you not trust me on this, Bilbo?" said Thorin softly.

The king's hand was like fire, spreading warmth from where their skin touched all throughout Bilbo's small body. The small hobbit closed his eyes, shaking as he drew breath after slow breath. Finally his lids opened, and he looked Thorin with newfound determination. "Of course I trust you, Thorin."

The corners of Thorin's mouth were lifting upwards, but it melted off as Bilbo continued.

"But I cannot trust you this time. Not for this conflict. I will do what I can to stop you."

And just like that Thorin roughly dropped his hand and turned away from the hobbit. He began to retreat to the cliff, hissing, "You are a fool, Bilbo Baggins."

The warmth disappeared.

"You are the fool this time, Thorin Oakenshield!" uttered Bilbo. And he flung himself forwards, crashing into Thorin, wrapping his little arms protectively yet in a restraining manner around the dwarf's chest. Thorin let out a grunt, only taking a single step forward to balance himself, then he stood still.

"You are not yourself today," the hobbit said in a whisper.

"Neither are you, my hafling friend. On regular days I would have asked Bombur to sit on your head for calling me a fool."

A dry laugh escaped Bilbo's lips.

"To make a joke at such a time," the hobbit chuckled, grief in his voice though another chuckle followed.

"Release me, Bilbo. You are making this harder than it should be."

The opposite happened. The protective arms tightened their hold.

"For Durin's sake, do not make me tear myself away from you."

Nothing happened, and Thorin began to twist his body, escaping from the hobbit.

Bilbo had no chance against Thorin, none at all. Although he had grown stronger over the past weeks he spent with the dwarves, Bilbo lost easily in brute physical strength.

Yet he would not let go.

Thorin said loudly, "Stop this foolishness, Bilbo!"

He twisted and turned, yet the hobbit would throw himself onto the king again, holding onto him, as if his life depended on it. And Thorin would attempt to disentangle himself yet again, and Bilbo would reply in just the same manner as he did before. The two creatures repeated the events over and over again. It was a spectacle to behold. The moon was high in the sky. The wind halted. The stars were bright. And two silhouettes wrestled on a cliff, as if interlocked in a bizarre, frivolous dance.

After what seemed like the hundredth's time that Thorin felt Bilbo's body on his back, he exploded.

_"Why,"_ he uttered, his clear voice rough and echoing throughout the mountain, _"do you struggle like this, Bilbo?!"_

"I—" the hobbit yelled, his throat closing up as the dwarf jerked to the side yet again, and Bilbo tightened his slackened hold, "I don't want a war to break out! All I see is darkness ahead if you carry out with your plan, Thorin! It is a terrible idea to anger the Lake-men and Wood-elves! I don't want to see people and my friends getting hurt! I...I don't want the person I love to be hurt!"

And Thorin stopped struggling, and Bilbo's eyes were wide open in shock.

_'You fool, Bilbo Baggins,'_ the hobbit thought to himself, scolding himself, screaming at himself, hating himself. _'You absolute fool!'_

Bilbo's hidden feelings were finally out. He did not plan to tell Thorin of how he felt towards him, no he did not. Not until later, at least. Definitely not now, when Thorin had too much to think about, to worry about, and Bilbo did not want to add to his burden. And he did not want to ruin the friendship that they had built after all this time.

Bilbo wanted to leap back in time and stop himself from saying what he said, or even better, to stab himself with Sting before he ever received the chance to open his mouth and utter his love for Thorin. He felt ashamed of it. How could he, a small hobbit from the Shire, be a match for such a bold and courageous king of lands?

As Bilbo viciously pondered over his thoughts, Thorin did not move.

Finally the dwarf broke the silence. "...Love...?"

Bilbo wished that he could see Thorin's face. But alas, it was only his broad back that he saw.

"I—I mean," the hobbit finally squeaked after a silence, "you are important to me! And so are the other dwarves! I mean—" He stumbled over his words, knowing that this might be the last chance to take back what he said. "—I love the other dwarves too! Such jolly companions! I do not know what I'd do without you and your company, Thor—"

Then before he knew what was happening, Bilbo found himself on his knees. Thorin's legs had given up and the king fell to the ground, bringing the hobbit along with him.

"Thorin!" cried Bilbo, as he helped his friend sit up on the rocky floor, his arm around Thorin's shoulders, afraid if he should fall again. "See, you are exhausted! You haven't slept a blink nor ate a bite for too long! Thorin—"

"So it is only the love of a friend that you give me," the dwarf said, He wretched his eyes from the ground and looked at Bilbo. "And nothing more, correct?"

For the umpteenth time, Bilbo blinked. He was puzzled, not only of the dwarf's words but of the expression that was worn. Thorin's eyes seemed glazed with sadness, his brow furrowed, and the smile on his lips seeming insincere, as if it took all of his strength to form it.

_'Why,'_ thought Bilbo,_ 'is he looking at me like that?'_

"I..." he said. "We are great friends and..."

"I see," said Thorin. "But tell me, my dear friend. What do you really mean when you say that?"

There was a pause, and Bilbo felt his body shake as he attempted to calm himself down, failing ultimately. The barrier that he had built to hold back his emotions crumbled. Finally with a gasp that could easily have been a sob, Bilbo cast himself forwards. This time it was not to restrain the dwarf, but to brush his lips against Thorin's slightly opened mouth, and pulling away just as quickly.

Bilbo quickly set his eyes on anything other than the person in front of him. His heart was pounding hard against his chest, as if it might burst through his body and clothes. His mind was in ruins, tearing from thought to thought: if he was regretting what he did or if he was glad he did it. Bilbo didn't know.

The silence that followed then was agonizing.

Finally the hobbit began to hiss to himself, thinking aloud, unaware that he was uttering the words so loudly that the dwarf could hear: "Oh heaven help me, what have I done? Bilbo Baggins, you stupid fool. You—"

His words were cut off when strong fingers wrapped themselves around his tiny wrists. In one swift movement, his body was thrown against the rocky wall, his wrists pinned to it at each side of his body, his back pressing into the hard surface. Before he knew what was happening, Bilbo felt warm, tender lips on his, and he saw sparks exploding and dancing like Gandalf's fireworks.

His eyes were wide open as Thorin kissed him, aggressively, yet passionately. Countless thoughts were running in Bilbo's mind, memories zipping here and there in one colorful parade of beautiful flashbacks. It only took a second for him to sink into the embrace, shutting his eyes and kissing the dwarf back with all that he had. He felt that if he were to jump off the cliff here and there, he would just soar over the clouds and never hit ground unless he wished to.

Then Thorin, without breaking the kiss, noticing the hobbit's response and lack of restraint, let his hands crawl slowly upwards away from Bilbo's wrists. Their fingers interlocked.

Just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Thorin had pulled away.

Bilbo nearly let out a whine of disappointment at the abrupt end to their embrace, but his confusion overpowered him, and he stared at Thorin the same way he had stared at the dwarf king after they shared their first hug, so long ago. Thorin smiled warmly. That smile, looked the same like the smile from back then. So long ago.

"Wh-Why...?" stammered Bilbo, breathing hard. His face was burning. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Is it not obvious?"

There was a pause.

"Tell me your thoughts, Thorin, and I shall tell you mine."

"Very well."

Their fingers were still interlocked, and Thorin let them drop gently until they were held between their chests. Bilbo felt so safe, so happy, so comfortable, and he decided to utter his thoughts first instead.

_'One big step for a small hobbit,'_ he told himself.

But due to some remarkable chance, both the hobbit and the dwarf confessed at the same second.

"I love you, Bilbo Baggins."

"I love you, Thorin Oakenshield."

Their voices echoed off the mountain walls, as if singing a melody, filling in the silence.

There could of been smiles. There could of been more laughter. There could of been more passionate embracing.

But instead, to the dwarf king's surprise, the hobbit flung himself forwards and began to weep. Bilbo's tiny body rocked with each sob, shaking uncontrollably against Thorin's, hands on the dwarf's chest, no longer interlocked. He cried and cried, and Thorin, confused as he was, wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him close in a protective embrace.

"All this time—" Bilbo finally sobbed, Thorin unable to see his face. "—All this time...and we could've done so many things... Those days spent in Beorn's house...and in Lake-town...we could've spent together...If only we had known..." His speech was cut off as he let out another sob. "I could have comforted you in Mirkwood, there would have been warmth in such a dark and terrible place...could've given you a kiss to tell you that it's all going to be okay before stuffing you into that barrel...I could've...We could've..."

"Forgive me, for I did not tell you sooner," whispered Thorin. He patted Bilbo gently on the back. "I was afraid if you did not feel the same. I did not want to sacrifice it. I was afraid you would shy away from me. It would be terrible, especially since I had treated you so terribly when we first met. But you act as if the world is ending tomorrow."

"The world will end if you continue with your plans."

Thorin sighed, holding the hobbit close. "I give full confidence when I say that the world will not fall."

Bilbo paused. "So your mind hasn't changed?"

"Nothing will change my choice. When the Elf and the Man return here tomorrow, I will give them the same answer as I have given before."

"Even after you are aware of my feelings?" cried Bilbo, finally looking up and locking eyes with the dwarf. "Even after all this?"

Thorin's smile was so warm, so comforting. He gently lifted his hands, placing them on each side of Bilbo's flushed cheeks, stroking them softly with gentle fingers. "As I have said, the world will not end tomorrow."

And then he closed his eyes and leaned forwards, and he kissed Bilbo again. Yet this time it was a tender, gentle kiss and the hobbit replied with just as much tenderness and love. The two figures were locked in the embrace, Bilbo's fingers on Thorin's chest again.

Finally they broke the kiss and touched their foreheads together, the hobbit and the dwarf smiling and laughing lightly.

"You must rest," said Thorin gently. "The night wanes. Dawn will be approaching. Although I yearn to have you with me tonight, I do not wish to see you tired and barely on your feet tomorrow." He kissed Bilbo on the forehead. "Sleep."

Bilbo nodded. "I will."

But the hobbit knew that he would not sleep. A plan was already hatching in his mind. His mind did not falter: he would still put a halt to Thorin's plans. Bilbo would not let his lover get hurt, for he knew how brutal and terrible battles could be.

As Bilbo walked away, Thorin watched him. The wind returned, blowing at their hair and clothes. As Bilbo walked away, drops dripped from the dwarf king's eyes.

The rocky ground was soon marked with the tears of Thorin Oakenshield.

The sun was climbing up into the sky, shining her rays onto the lands below, and the Arkenstone had been tucked in Bilbo Baggin's arms as he made his way to the camp where the Wood-elves and Lake-men camp resided. A wolf howled in the distance. The stars bled into the darkness until they disappeared; the darkness turning into light. Dawn approached.

The next day, Thorin died in the Battle of Five Armies, and Bilbo had never wept so hard in his life.

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**_end_**

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**A/N: **I can't wait to see how Peter Jackson will portray the scenes from the book...Gah, another year of waiting!

Again, comments and critics are highly appreciated :) Thank you for reading this story, even if you only read a couple of words from it.

And thanks to Guest (anonymous name) for finding a mistake in this story. I fixed it up.


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